#which is why they all got covid twice

[pinkfey]

the alienation of showing up to an event as the only person masked is like. the absolute worst.

[stsgluver]

summary. instead of spending two weeks in a hot country, you're stuck in a cramped hotel with your boyfriend.

wc. 1.3k

tags. richly!gojo au, fluff, slightly suggestive themes but not really you've got to squint hard, swearing once

series masterlist

“i’m literally dying,” gojo whined, falling back dramatically onto the double bed in the room.

you shot him a glare from where you sat on the floor, searching through your suitcase for ibuprofen which you had grabbed in the airport’s pharmacy to help with the searing headache you had. despite his tendency to have migraines that could leave him bedridden for days, gojo had decided not to bring any painkillers just in case and that was just one of many reasons you might be killing him before the fortnight is over. “if you complain one more time you will be dead.”

you were meant to be going on a two week, all inclusive holiday with your darling boyfriend and his mega rich family in a hot foreign country, the worries of college pushed far to the back of your mind for fourteen days of pure bliss. 

but fate clearly didn’t think you’d earnt such restbite as upon arrival and taking the mandatory test, both you and gojo had tested positive for covid-19. the light sniffles he had put down to hayfever and the headache you’d assumed was just what came with having gojo satoru as a boyfriend, were in fact symptoms of the illness you both had.

so now here you were: isolating in a small hotel room until your isolation period was up, or you both tested negative. it was sparsely decorated – a double bed in the centre of the room and a television opposite. there was a small open wardrobe where gojo had dumped his suitcase and an ensuite that would just about fit your lanky boyfriend. although not the best, there was some air conditioning as well which made the stifling heat just a little bit more bearable.

the staff had given you a specific number to call if either of your symptoms got worse and food would be brought to you at specific times everyday (not like the usual room service gojo was used to where he’d order banquets of food at stupid times in the morning). there were also the morning tests that you now had to do daily which left you pathetically sneezing afterwards. all in all, nothing that you had expected for your get away.

after finally finding the medication, you quickly swallowed two pills down with a sip of water. the sooner they could kick in and actually do something to help ease your discomfort, the better.

crawling onto the double bed, gojo welcomed you with open arms and you gratefully curled into his side, throwing one of your legs over him. yes, it was boiling and yes, you were mildly irritated with your boyfriend, but you were also in pain and, for all his flaws (which he denied having any), nothing could top being held close by him. the two of you were clingy with each other at the best of times – being ill and feeling sorry for yourselves only made you both worse.

“pass me the remote,” you patted the space next to gojo blindly, too lazy to lift your head to actually search for it. it had now been almost an hour of you two cuddled up on the bed, and for the last thirty minutes gojo had been rewatching the same show over and over. whilst you headache had marginally subsided, listening to the same crappy show was only driving you insane.

“no, i like this show,” gojo whined, swatting your hand away.

“satoru,” you dragged out, muffled as you pressed your face further into his top, “you’ve watched this episode three times, you don’t need to watch it again.”

gojo hummed thoughtfully, running his hands through your hair. it was enough to make you fall asleep if you weren’t careful. “yes i do.”

“why?” you rested your chin on his chest, meeting the gaze of his bright blue eyes that sparkled as they looked down at you.

“because i’m ill.” he coughed twice for affect, sounding as pathetic as ever as he ‘checked’ himself for a fever too. 

you narrowed your eyes at him before pinching his side, causing him to let out a small yelp. “who’s fault is that?”

“covid’s.”

“no. yours,” you said pointedly, a little more alert as you relayed all the reasons why it was in fact gojo’s fault that you both had contracted this illness. “i said don’t go to geto’s party, we’re about to go on a very expensive holiday. you said but baby please please please-” you huffed, rolling back onto your back next to him defiantly. “so i gave in, as per, and now we’re–”

gojo brought his other hand to messily pat the top of your head, coaxing you to turn to face him. “i love it when you’re mad,” he was wearing a shit-eating grin that only widened when you blankly stared back at him – your annoyance radiating off of you in waves more powerful than the ones you could’ve been enjoying on the sun-ridden beach. “you’re so sexy.”

“you’re corny. and annoying,” you sat yourself up as you held out your hand, lifting a finger with each complaint, “and stupidly tall, and a pain in my ass… and i feel like you’re not even listening.” 

gojo crossed his arms behind his head as he condescendingly nodded along, gazing up at you with a lopsided smile. his top had risen up ever so slightly to expose a sliver of his abs and you hated how attractive he looked when all you wanted to do was throttle him for his childish behaviour.

“oh i’m listening baby,” he encouraged with a teasing tone, tracing small patterns on the exposed skin of your leg. “go on.” there was a fire in his wake, one that no hot weather could ever compare to, not even covid had this much of an affect on you.

“i don’t think i want to anymore,” you mumbled arms crossed as you slowly lay back down and avoided his eyes, trying not to give him any indication that you were a complete fool for his touch (like your sudden bashfulness wasn’t completely giving you away).

gojo was slow with his movements, thoughtful as he dragged his hand up along your thigh, grazing your hips, giving your waist a light squeeze as he traced the outline of your body. your breath was caught in your throat as you allowed him to do as he pleased, all previous grievances forgiven as you watched entranced. gradually, he closed the gap that you had created, shifting his body until he straddled you, holding his body up by resting on his forearms either side of your head.

gojo dipped his head down, lips milimetres from your own that you would barely even need to lift your head from the pillow to touch. his voice was an octave deeper as he spoke. “shame, i was just starting to–” 

and then he fell into a fit of very loud and very barky and very not sexy coughs. he didn’t even give you the decency of trying to limit the spread of his germs and buried his head into the crook of your neck once his coughs were over.

“mood fucking ruined,” you hit his shoulder lightly and he babbled something that was completely muffled and only tickled as his lips brushed your skin. “please let me at least change the channel so i die from this illness and not insanity.” 

gojo lifted his head up ever so slightly, just enough so that he could peck the corner of your lips and point to the spot next to you. “i slipped the remote under my pillow. tv’s all yours baby.”

a/n. I think this is like the first thing ive posted in almost a month. I MISS YOU GUYS xxx

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2

[callsignvenomcod]

a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

_____________________________________________________________

Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ordering a meal I only ate half of?

For context, I (23F) went on my fourth date with someone I’ve been seeing (22F). We went to a restaurant I have been to a lot. The prices pre-covid were usually $8-$12 per meal but post-covid now they’re $12-$16. I used to go there frequently before covid, but have been maybe twice afterwards and I always order the same dish. The old price was $10, now it’s $14. (For more context we live in a college town, pretty much all food prices doubled during covid and then stayed like that. This is one of the better ones).

When I went up to order, my date took care of paying for it. I paid last time for both of us so I didn’t think much of it. But the issue came when our meal was done, I asked for half of mine to be boxed up and my date got REALLY mad.

She started arguing with me about how I tricked her into buying me two meals and I got really confused about that. For context, I’m quite small, 5’0”, and I don’t need to eat a lot compared to people who are taller than me. So I genuinely tried to explain to her that this is just what I do at restaurants, I order something and then box half so I get more of my money’s worth. Unfortunately in the example, I remembered the old price and said “$5 for now, $5 for tomorrow’s meal” instead of 7, to which she got upset that I didn’t even “know” how much the meal was costing her.

I asked her if she’d rather I just ate the whole thing now and she said yes. But… Why?! I don’t need it all now. She pressed on and told me it was disrespectful to make her pay for two meals for me instead of just one. I told her genuinely for me that is two meals worth of food and she accused me of body shaming her. I don’t get it, because she’s not overweight at all she’s just 5’10” and bikes a lot.

Anyhow, I think that’s our last date because this left a sour taste in my mouth, but am I the asshole here?

What are these acronyms?

[cheriladycl01]

The Deeper Connection - Zhou Guanyu x ChildhoodBestfriend! Reader

Plot: You made friends with Zhou when he first came to the UK to pursue his driving career, and you were like two pee's in a pod. When he reaches F1 and life gets busy for the both of you he finds solitude in your childhood hideout.

A/N: I haven't been that active lately with finals coming up, however I'm still trying to post regularly!

You'd grown up in Sheffield all your life, you lived in a very nice home and came from a pretty well off family. With a dad in oversea real estate and your mum as a business owner and entrepreneur in the UK you wouldn't ever have to ask for anything twice.

The trouble was that you tried out so many hobbies and none of them really tended to stick.

Ballet when you were at three, didn't work with zero hand to eye coordination.

Horse-riding when you were five, didn't work after you got bored with how slowly you were being taught to ride.

Acting school when you were seven, didn't work when you were bullied for only being there because of mummy and daddies money. This completely made you loose your passion for it.

Swimming when you were eight, which you had to stop because of a medical condition with the cold water in the winters and your body temperature not mixing well.

Space camp when you were nine, didn't work because you were bored where you already knew everything they talked to you about because it was a special interest of yours.

Pottery when you were ten, whenever something broke you got really disappointed and sad with yourself and eventually it became something you only did every now and then to avoid burnout.

Gymnastics when you were eleven, didn't work after getting bored within the first weeks and it taking up too much time.

You were 12 when you met Zhou Guanyu, he moved into a house down your road in the gated woodland community of large and wealthy farm homes and mansions.

You guys became close almost straight away, you'd spend every night in the treehouse that his dad built him when they first moved in. But he wasn't always around, some weekends you'd knock on his door and no-one but the maid would answer explaining that the family weren't around.

She'd let you into the house, where you'd wait for him in either his bedroom or out in the treehouse. Sometimes he wouldn't come back until 10pm, and you'd be curled up on his beanbag in his room, asleep and his parents would have to call yours suggesting yet another sleepover.

After 3 years of knowing him, you found out where he'd been going and why he was home schooled just like you. He would kart, but now he'd got into Italian Formula 4 and he wouldn't be home as much.

You'd cried begging him not to go, Zhou really was your only friend and even though it had only been three years of friendship you'd attached yourself to him insanely quickly.

Not that he minded of course.

Your managed to go see one race with him, it was in Monza and he'd won it all. And that weekend he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes, as a two giddy sixteen year olds and went on from there.

The distance got easier when he was in the European Formula 3 championship in 2016. You being 17 weren't actually allowed to make your own choices yet, but the minute you turned 18, 5 months after Zhou, you were following him around to each race.

At this stage taking a gap year before you were due to go to university was better for you, and Zhou. In 2018, he got the news he'd be going to Formula 2 for the 2019 and you'd been accepted to Oxford.

For that first year you made it work. You visited him at races when you had breaks from university and he would come stay with you in your small uni accommodation in the off season or when he had longer breaks into between races.

But when 2020 rolled around, and you were forced to be separated by the growth of COVID-19 your relationship fizzled out. You pushed and pushed trying to keep the sparks there but one day, Zhou phoned you explaining that he couldn't do it anymore.

You'd cried so much that day, and you'd never felt more alone. The only place you thought to go that was safe was the tree house, you could get there through the side gate and you knew Zhou's parents were in China on business only leaving the maid there.

So that's what you did, you laid there curled up in a blanket Zhou brought you, crying until it got darked and you started to scare yourself looking into the dark woods.

When you were younger and you thought you heard or saw something in the woods, Zhou would hold you close explaining to you it was just your imagination and you'd immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

You left the treehouse that night getting on the last train you could think off back to Oxford.

Zhou continued in F2 in 2021, but got progressively more busy when competing in a small stint of the Winter F3 Asian Championship, of course you kept up to date with him.

You loved the boy and you didn't ever think you'd stop.

When the announcement of his promotion into F1 happened you cried happy and sad tears. Happy he'd achieved his dream, but ultimately sad he was in the big leagues now and he would definitely have no time for you.

He had a phenomenal first year and you watched every single race, even getting up at absurd hours to watch him. You cheered him on all the time and would get anxious whenever you had to stop or DNF.

Silverstone with the Russell incident was the worst. You parents had to hold you tightly as you cried seeing just how bad the crash was. Seeing George run over to his flipped over car that he couldn't get out of and a red flag being called.

You ran out the house going straight to the treehouse. His parents watched as the 22 year old climbed up the old rickety ladder, bag in hand and red bloodshot eyes.

They knew you'd seen his crash and you wanted some space.

What did shock them was the fact that you consistently came back every night for a few weeks.

It was a warmer night and you still had your blanket but there wasn't a need for a hoodie when you first came out. You were just laying there on the wooden planks looking out of the little skylight in the breaking wooden roof at the stars.

"Hey" a voice says softly making you turn to the ladder.

"Zhou?!" you explain sitting up quickly looking at him. Not that you hadn't seen him on Instagram or in his post race interviews but he'd grown into his face. He was as handsome as ever.

"Mmmmm" he sighs, almost in a grunt sort of way. He comes next to you and lays down, not coming to close scared that you'll leave if he pushes to close.

"Your star is up there tonight" he says raising his hand and pointing to the brightest star between the tree line. He'd named it your star when you'd spend the first night out here.

"How's it been, travelling round the world?" you ask softly turning to look at him, laying on your side. He turns onto his as well to also look at you.

"Lonely" he whispers with a sigh, pushing some of you hair behind your ear making you hold you breath as his fingers brush along the side of you face and down to your lips before recoiling his hand back.

"But your so busy and round people all the time!" you argue confused as to why he would ever feel lonely.

"I think sometimes even though I'm surrounded by people, they aren't people that get me... you know?" he asks turning onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"I think i feel the opposite" you laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his gaze not wavering from the sky.

"I feel like i have absolutely no-one around me, but everyone i do bump into can see right through me" you sigh, having struggled at work recently as a graduate and new employee, working from home.

"Seems like we both are out of our comfort zones then" he offers with a sigh.

"Mmmmm i did have my comfort zone at one point" you say, it came out pointedly which you didn't intend.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking over at you again.

"Yeah it was you. I don't think I've ever experienced a connection like I have... had with you" you sigh.

"Had, you don't feel that way anymore?" he asks with a sad frown, that makes a frown of you own appear.

"You broke up with me in one of the loneliest periods in my life, It's always just been you Zhou, I've never had anyone else and then you were just gone ... I- you broke me and took a part with you" you sniffle, not sure how else to describe the heartbreak you were feeling.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would splinter all over and someone would come along and patch it back up until it healed.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would completely shatter and all the pieces are spread out and someone has to come along and pick up all of those pieces and puzzle them back together.

Some people have their heart broken, where it again completely shatters but the culprit takes a piece of that heart with them so that if theirs a time when someone else does come around and fix it it's never fully fixed, beating but never full.

And Zhou had that piece of your heart and no-one had put back the remaining parts of your heart, you'd gradually started to do it yourself but it was proving to be a long process.

"I-" he starts but chokes on his words.

"I think, I'll always love you Zhou Guanyu..." you whisper sitting up, your hair loosely falling over your shoulder.

"I know I'll always love you. And I want to take back everything I did! I need you in my life!" he says looking over you, making you look down.

"You cant take it back Zhou..." you start before looking up seeing his teary expression. "But i think we could start again. I don't want my heart back, it's yours to take... all of it forever. Your only going to be it!" you smile, knowing this was your chance to have him back.

He was your soulmate you were sure of it.

He leans up and pulls you into a kiss.

"I promise from here on out, I'll never leave you again again!"

Taglist:

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[some-triangles]

I've now played through Nine Sols twice and have gotten both endings! That means it's time to post

So, hilariously, I got the true ending first! The old woman doesn't have a third phase if you go for the normal ending, which explains why it felt so brutal I had to post about it if you do what I did. I guess the creators of the game thought you would get through your first go-round w/o finding everything, get the normal ending, and then go back to scrape and get the true ending, for which you've been prepared by beating Eigong previously. But it's a metroidvania, finding all the hidden stuff is the point. So of course I went hard mode first.

None of that is nearly as interesting as the endings themselves, though! Potted summary of Nine Sols plot: the cat furries (Han) of Peilang (China) accidentally invented the deadly Tianhuo virus (COVID) while trying to find the cure for death. So they blasted an entire island into space, taking everyone who could afford to come, and put them all in suspended animation while scientists kept looking for a cure. Why space? Because the suspended animation/paradise simulation machine requires such incredible computational power to run that they need a bunch of organic brains to do it. Luckily their spy satellite spotted a planet (Earth [Formosa]) full of primitive apemen (Formosan native peoples) whose virus-free brains would be perfect for the project.

So they kidnap a bunch of humans and bring them to their space island, which is using our sun for power, causing climate change (climate change) on earth. The humans live in a simulated primitive village and send off a bunch of kids to go "live with the gods" every year, thus keeping the simulation program supplied with fresh brains. This goes on for hundreds of years. Meanwhile the scientists come up with a COVID vaccine which turns the cat furries who take it into immortal, hivebrained mutants.

You play one of the 10 people who are responsible for this whole mess (the CCP secretariat.) You get thrown out of the council and murdered when you find out that they made COVID in a lab and get mad about it, and then you go on a roaring rampage of revenge in the hope of wresting power away from your former colleagues. Meanwhile, your mentor has decided that the mutants are the immortality they were looking for all along and decides to turn everyone into pink goo, in the usual fashion.

So! When you are on the verge of confronting her and thwarting her plans, you are given two options! Or so I thought. It turns out you only get two options if you do everything you can to bond with your human friends, which mostly involves sharing all of china's cultural treasures with the adorable kid who follows you around. (And drinking a dude's vomit. No time to explain that.) The normal, regular, you didn't do that ending involves you taking the whole station back to Penglai (again, China) where you now have a permanent population of Formosans to use for the brain machines but you are presumably nice about it, and you have turned your little buddy into a collaborator. In the GOOD ending, you send all the humans back to earth (land back) and then you blow the space island up, incidentally genociding yourself. The sole survivor of the Han furry race is a fat cat in a hover chair named Kuafu, who loves bubble tea so much he had a tank of it built into his work uniform. He will not be reproducing.

So, lest you think my bracketing is excessive - this game was made by Red Candle, a Taiwanese game company which is best known for having their last game delisted from Steam for taking a shot at Xi Jinping. The soundtrack was created by Collage, an incredible band of native Formosan descent who write their songs in a bunch of languages - Amis, Hokkien, Japanese, English - but, pointedly, not in Mandarin. The political stuff is extremely on purpose. The second ending isn't exactly meant to be happy - your death devastates your little human friend, and life is going to be hard for the humans back on gradually thawing Earth. But the game is very clear that it's the correct ending, the right thing to do.

It would if nothing else be a really interesting way to resolve the political status of Taiwan. It's a One China policy, but not that one, because they're all fucking dead over there.

Taiwan's continued existence as an independent entity is probably the best thing our imperial sphere has ever done. Can you believe one of our dictatorial buffer states democratized itself? Like, the hereditary dictator's son decided that they needed to modernize and by that he actually meant to stop being a dictatorship, if only to stop making his political patrons (us) look bad? And now because of their buffer status they get to be the only real democracy in East Asia, insulated from power and power brokers by their liminality. And still it's a colony, and the native people have lived through occupation after occupation, to the point where some young people are starting to prefer the Japanese to the KMT because better the devil you never knew. What a mindfuck. You can see why just blowing the mainland to smithereens might be tempting to some.

Anyway. What a wonderful, fascinating game, and what a statement. (You just have to game out of your mind to get to it.) Probably harsher than anything that was in Devotion, which is why it's wise to deliver your political messaging through cute furries, as long as the furry in question isn't Winnie the Pooh.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Why do we have to keep getting COVID? - Published Aug 24, 2024

Nearly five years into life with COVID-19, I find myself selfishly wondering how many more times I – by which I mean, all of us – need to get it before we acknowledge that allowing multiple reinfections poses a very large problem? I thought my second bout of it (or was it my third?) in February, 2023, was tough – that one set me back a few months. But this nasty little bug, which is again surging here, there and everywhere, has bitten me once again, and has been a beast to overcome.

My latest infection – which began in June and is mild by medical standards – surprised me. I’m an active, healthy woman in her 40s. In addition to having been infected previously, I’ve gratefully received every single vaccine offered, including the booster shot only about 18 per cent of Canadians got last fall. I’m not sure I blame those who didn’t rush out in droves to get it. There was little public push to do so, and a general sense that infection after vaccination was okay so long as you’re “healthy.” Continued protection against a virus that makes swift and powerful adaptations is a hard sell when you don’t invest in the power of prevention, too.

Even so, after the fever passed, I spent a month largely confined to my bed, unable to do more than shuffle to my doctor’s office and back. I felt weak and nauseated in a way that made pregnancy queasiness seem quaint. My muscles felt tired or tingling or cold, or all three at once. I was regularly overcome by a sensation that I can only describe as a full-body panic attack, marked by a racing heart and rapid breathing. For weeks, I felt like my internal circuitry was on the fritz. Even my vision was blurred. It remains so.

That blurry-eyed bit has been the hardest postviral symptom to ignore. Nearly two months after my initial infection, I still can’t see clearly. This has proven to be a remarkably distressing and mildly terrifying postviral challenge to navigate.

I’ve written about COVID, so I knew that it was a vascular disease and that infection may have a range of effects on brains, hearts, immune systems and other organs. But it turns out COVID may also be associated with vision changes.

What I can read about this symptom online is far different from the help I can access. No one is quite sure how to deal with this side effect. My doctor recommended I see an optometrist, who was in turn compassionate and understanding but was unsure what to do about this either. I’m waiting for a referral to see an ophthalmologist.

In the meantime, I still need to work – I still want to work – and am figuring out ways to function without anxiety about what may or may not be going on.

I’m not the only one experiencing post-COVID complications in a health care climate that’s struggling to figure out what to do with people like me. About two million Canadians are reportedly experiencing long-term symptoms after an infection. Those numbers can only be expected to increase if we continue to behave as if there are no long-term implications inherent in allowing infections to surge twice yearly. There’s also evidence to suggest that long COVID afflicts more working-age people, i.e. the people who’ve been told it’s okay to work while you’re sick (and, by the way, you don’t have much of a choice).

This growing problem of people who don’t feel well for lengthy periods of time after COVID is also occurring as access to health care has never been more challenging. I feel immensely grateful to even have a family doctor – a privilege around 6.5 million people in Canada can’t claim for themselves.

Even with my compromised vision, it’s clear to me that with governments doing less and less in the face of a complex virus, the multiple knock-on effects of this approach are coming at a high human cost. But who’s counting that cost?

Despite mounting evidence that reinfection is equivalent to rolling the dice, we’ve yet to implement policies known to be effective at helping reduce transmission. I’m not talking about shutting things down. I’m talking about finally and decisively implementing the practical interventions that public-health advocates, epidemiologists, virologists and engineers have been advocating for since 2020: improving indoor air quality, which reduces airborne contaminants; granting workers paid sick leave so that they can rest and not infect others (even during the height of the pandemic, workers only got two paid sick days in Ontario); and instituting meaningful policies during rising periods of transmission.

Mask, stay home when sick, rest – this is the advice we’ve been getting for years. But these are not individual actions to take as much as privileges taken for granted. Kids in schools that operate without such policies or proper ventilation systems are, in Ontario, at the mercy of a Ministry of Education that once saw fit to float the notion that COVID doesn’t transmit in schools at all, and there is a persistent, convenient myth circulating among parents that infection is good for kids – preferable to vaccination, even. (For the record, all my infections came courtesy of my son’s school.)

Seniors in care homes can’t demand care workers be tested regularly for infection or be granted paid sick days or vet the air quality in their care homes. Workers aren’t entitled to paid time off and don’t dictate the terms of safe employment.

Public-health advice means little without policies in place to make it effective.

If the pandemic began with messages of solidarity, it rapidly devolved into reassurances that only the truly vulnerable would experience COVID’s greatest harms. In the shadow of that predatory view of human life, the population of the vulnerable has only expanded. Reinfection raises the risk of finding out how vulnerable you and those around you are, too.

As a new clever variant spreads, it feels wise to ask: How many times is enough to get a virus that – unlike our politicians – understands the power of rapid adaptation?

[createyourownnarrative]

Usually I try not to post too much about Long Covid on my regular FB feed. I’ve learned to just not do it. It’s best I save those posts for my support groups where I can get the support I need from people going through the same struggle.

But I need to get this off my chest.

I always knew I wanted to be an artist. I dabbled in many mediums over the years, photography, music, painting, film/media, writing, I’ve made sculptures. I truly enjoy expressing myself through various art forms, and connecting with others through that.

In 2010-2011, after years of working job after job trying to find my passion (when most of my friends were already college graduates with direction) and feeling a little lost, in the retail industry, I put my foot down, went back to school and chose a medium, & decided to pursue THAT. One medium I truly always loved: Photography. In 2012, I exhibited my work for the first time. In 2020 I opened up my first photo studio. A creative space where I can share and make memories. 1 month later, a global pandemic overturns our worlds and realities. I never would have imagined, that, in our lifetime. You just don’t think it could happen to you (to us). But it did. It’s still so surreal to me.

I got sick with Covid twice. I knew some people who had covid over 4-8 times. I had it twice. It only took that first bout with the virus to completely change my life. My body. My mind. My worries. My perspective. My whole world. And my future. I thought I almost had it figured out, my path, my plans, my goals. What I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go. Who I wanted to be. Now i’m grateful that I make it through my day, without collapsing. (which has happened and was very scary). My last two photography jobs, I couldn’t feel my hands. It’s why I’ve been so inactive, since I got sick. Whats going to happen when I can’t take pictures anymore?

When I tested positive for the first time, I cried in the cab ride home. I was beyond terrified. What will this mean? Will I survive this? What is going to happen. I thought if I can get through the virus and live, that’s all I could want. Some months before, I had lost a high school friend, a fellow musician, to Coronavirus. He was only 32 years old. We didn’t know what would happen. Who was at risk of death. After 9 or 10 days, with the virus. I tested negative, and returned to work. Feeling good, that I survived. Especially after day 4, when I woke up gasping for air in the night. I feared I wouldn’t wake up. I got blamed for testing positive by people around me. It was “my fault”. For “not being careful”. I felt so alienated. After I returned to work, I was preparing to move, packing, organizing, purging. One day, I could not get out of bed. And strange heavy symptoms. I thought I had Covid again. Of course the test came back negative.

But I would never be the same again. I never fully recovered from getting sick. Stuck back in 2020.

Do you know what it’s like? I see the world moving on. Almost like it never happened. Our government lying and covering up facts/truth. We are still sick. Still here. 18 million people in America are still sick with Post Covid syndrome. I’m left to feel like it’s my fault..I’m to blame. Because I “didn’t take care of myself.” Would you say that to someone with cancer? Or fibromyalgia? Or heart problems? Or Alzheimer’s? Or diabetes? Or any other illness? The stigma I’m (and we are) facing is unreal. People don’t believe me when I say “I still can’t taste and smell” and that I’m chronically ill now. “You don’t look sick”. “It’s because you party too much”. “you’re getting older” “it’s all those long nights you work on your feet”. I’ve heard it all. “But I see you at the bar working”. I have to work. There is no disability, go fund me, or assistance. I have to pay my rent. On my own. So I need to work. But just because you see me, at work, doesn’t mean I’m well. It just means I’m pushing myself to stay alive. It’s been true torture working through all this. I mourn and grieve for weeks and months at a time. It hasn’t stopped. It took me a long time, to accept that this is not going away anytime soon.

And my heart is broken. I feel left out in the rain. By our leaders, scientists, doctors, friends I thought I had. There is no community support. Even if someone believes you’re sick. No funding/fundraisers for LC. There is no cure, no pill, no treatment, no progress in finding treatment or biomarkers in the body to be able to even test for LC. The unpredictability of it. The symptoms. It’s really been torturous. Torture. A true nightmare. Having to sit in the shower so I don’t fall. Or hit my head (again) Doubling heart rate just upon standing. I get winded just talking and singing karaoke. I forget everything now. I slur my speech, sober. Tremors like Parkinsonism. My memory loss and constant issues feel like dementia-brain fog. I forget how to spell now. my hands turn purple red and blue when I step out of the shower. Migraines that last for months. Months. I take Tylenol like it’s medication. Neuropathy, nerve pain, nerve itches, tingling and numbness. My body temperature can’t regulate, so I often am cold and hot simultaneously. How do you remedy that? The discomfort and distress I feel is unbearable. Loosing clumps of hair. My hair is greying more and more rapidly post covid. Brittle nails. Skin issues. Digestive issues. Eye problems. Cognitive difficulties. Joint pain. Muscle pain. Muscle atrophy. Weakness. Severe severe fatigue. Almost like you worked out at the gym, full body then took a benadryl. Every. Fucking. Day. I’m tired of being so fucking tired. Before Covid, people would always have to tell me to slow down. Working full time, school, internships, photography, going to the gym full time. I always took on so much. I had so much energy and drive. It was a fire in me.

Now it’s gone. A piece of me has died, undoubtedly. And I question everything now. Most days I’m afraid to leave my house. And don’t. Unless it’s to work. If I do leave my house, it’s because I’m pushing myself, and I’m not well. My anxiety and depression are much worse. Chronic illness has also taken its toll on my mental health. It’s been draining trying to keep up with the world. I feel left behind. I’m not only mourning my health, and my abilities, but my passion in life, the one thing I worked so hard for. My future. And Photography. What do I do, if I can’t create anymore? What purpose do I have?

No one believes me, or think LC exists. And if I don’t “show up”, it’s because “she’s a flake”. I’m in such a dark place you may never understand. How do I navigate this life? Being sick every day.

[beauty-and-passion]

What Makes the Perfect Gift?: A real Aside (and no stakes left)

As always, thank you for the people writing me every time there is something new SaSi-related, because I don't pay attention to Thomas' Youtube account anymore.

In this case, thank you twice, because I would've never paid attention until 2024, considering I had pretty clear plans for my holidays and they involved:

a Christmas trip with my family

a (hopefully!) New Year trip away from home (hopefully!)

But since my plans were too good, the universe decided "Fuck no" and gave me fucking Covid. So my Christmas plan blew away and here I am, slowly recovering for New Year. Thanks. Great.

So I apologize for taking quite some time to reply to comments, asks and everything else: until yesterday, I still had some fever and was unable to look at any screen without feeling even more feverish. But today I'm better, so here I am, finally watching and writing about this Aside.

I'll admit it: I was quite curious, because in the first ask, the anon told me there was a "video (?)", while the other talked about an episode. Me, being the cynical person I am, immediately thought it was Mr. Sander's new Christmas ad for his new sweaters.

But, to my joy, it was not. Glad to know that Mr. Sanders can do something SaSi-related that is not just an ad.

Honestly, this Aside is way, WAY better than the previous one. The characters' personalities are better, the interactions are better, everything is better. Even the moral and the writing of the episode are better.

Sure, there are still a few things here and there I do not like, but compared to the previous Aside, they're way less. Still, I will mention them all because of intellectual honesty and because it doesn’t make sense to ignore the bad to focus on the good only.

_______________________________

Where the fuck does everyone live?

The episode starts: Logan calls everyone, says they will do a Secret Santa and that "Janus and Remus will join us today".

First of all, I can understand why Virgil is groaning, but why Roman is groaning too? He got Janus for the Secret Santa, so he should already know Janus is joining them today. Otherwise, how was he supposed to give him his gift? By mailing it? I know it's a small inconsistency, but this is a small episode too, so there shouldn't be inconsistencies at all.

Second, Logan talks about Remus and Janus joining them, by saying that "they'll get here" and that "they came all this way to spend Christmas with us".

For me, this raises A LOT of questions because Logan uses the kind of language you would use if your aunts/grandparents come to visit you on Christmas - i.e. if someone who lives far away from you comes to your place.

But these people all live inside Thomas' mind. So how far do these two live? How does Thomas' mind works? And most importantly: is Thomas copying my headcanons about the mind and the Sides' rooms? In that case:

At least acknowledge you're taking inspiration from me, Mr. Sanders. It's not nice to steal ideas without admitting it.

When I said the mind is vast, I also explained that the Sides can move fairly quickly between planes and Janus can even jump from Unconscious to Subconscious in seconds. I also explained that Logan doesn't know how many actual planes there are in the mind, so why should he say that Janus and Remus had to come "all this way" to meet them, if he doesn't know how big "all this way" is?

If Mr. Sanders isn't inspired but he just decided now that the mind is huge (which contradicts his past idea, since he said in the past that the Sides live in rooms and every room changes according to the space Thomas is), at least offer more details about this new idea and think about them. You can't just change your canon and go with it. That's writing 101, you should already know that.

_______________________________

Janus has been replaced by his drunk doppelganger

I explained in my last post why Janus being a wine mom is funny and the reason is that it's subtle. It's not thrown in the face.

So no, Janus showing a massive wine bottle isn't funny, nor subtle. It's exactly what I meant by "thrown in your face".

And this saddens me because... do you remember his introduction? His first episodes? How suave he was? How focused he was on being this mysterious, charming, dark figure?

Ah yes, exactly like he is now: a laughing, bubbling, drunk idiot.

Seriously, does this look like the same character to you? Does this look like the same guy?

I don't know if Thomas didn't know how to handle Janus or straight-up forgot who he was supposed to be. In that case, please allow me to remind you all that Janus was supposed to be the bearer of Thomas' secrets, the embodiment of lies and (probably), the one who hides the last Side. Do you think this kind of figure should act more like a suave, mysterious guy or like a drunk idiot?

And yes, I know “alcohol funny ah ah”, but Janus is the last Side who should be a heavy drinker, considering how much self-control he needs and what kind of jobs he has.

It’s just sad to see such a character being mishandled like that, you know?

_______________________________

Patton's gift and the true Creativity

You know, people blamed Patton for giving Remus an air fryer because "it's the gift you give when you don't really know someone" and bla bla bla... but that's all bullshit and the reason is very simple: Remus is a creative force.

Yes, that's it, that's all you need. Remus is a creative force and to a creative force you can feed literally anything. It doesn't matter if it's an air fryer, a 200$ painting set or a single needle, Remus would've found a way to use all of them. Heck, Patton could've gifted him literal trash and Remus would've found a way to use that too.

Also if you notice, Remus doesn't hate the gift, on the contrary: he's extremely curious about it, he asks what he can fry inside it and when he leaves, he already has plans on how to use it. That's how Creativity works. That's how Remus works. And that proves what a great Creativity he is.

Remus truly is the best character.

_______________________________

Remus' gift and the unexpected wholesomeness

Listen, I'm not biased towards Remus... okay, maybe a little bit. But still, his gift is wholesome and here's why:

it's handmade! I mean, even if it's disgusting, he spent time making it by himself. That proves he cares about Virgil so much, to spend his time making something for him

It's handmade, which proves Remus is a creative force, because what's more creative than making something yourself?

Mr Fuzzy is probably the offspring of one of the Great Old Ones, considering it’s a monstrosity with too many eyes, no clear shape and its real name is something similar to the name of the Great Old Ones themselves

Mr Fuzzy is made with the stuff in the shower drain and that proves it's probably the offspring of Cthulhu because, you know, water

Virgil knows Remus gives a name to the stuff in his shower drain and that's like proof no. #700 they know each other very well

Remus is saving Virgil from Cthulhu, because when it wakes up, it will probably spare Virgil for taking care of its demonic offspring.

And most importantly:

M̶̨̖͈̟͕̰̠̀͑̊̓̍̒̅͠r̸̘̲̜̖͆͗̇͛͑͂́ ̶̼͎̽̓̊͗F̴̫̈́̈́̈́̔͆̀̎̈͘ụ̶̉z̵̧̢̜̖̘̩͒̎͛́͘ẑ̴̺̺͓̩̝͎͙̖̳̓̈́̇̄̈ͅy̶͕̱͔͖̿ͅ ̴̦̼͓͎͕̩̆̓́͑͠͠d̶͙͚̩͇̳̑̑͂͒̂̏͛̏̚ǫ̶̦̘̦̺̣̬͎͐ẽ̷̮̯͚͎̾̽̊̋s̴̛̟̮̻̱͕̗̼̹̭̐̐́̌̋͋̄̈́́n̶̡̢͓̺̔'̵̨̯̤̬̜͇̭̅́t̵̪͛̈̃̐͝ ̷̡̠̤̱͈̳̎͆͝͝͠l̶��̭i̶̯̱̙̟̼̪̭̳̹̅̎͋͋̓̊͗̇͛͌ǩ̷̪͘e̷͎̖̦̔̒̿̎ ̵͚̩̄̈́͑̑̾͆̇̒̎b̴̨̛͙͈̱̙̗̰̗̎̀̔̿̎̔͝ẽ̸̡̥̫̂̍̒̋́́̂͘̚ȋ̵̧̛͎̩̫͉̰̋͐̄̈́͊̐̀̑͜n̷̩̻͚͇̰̝̣̠̈̀g̵̺͉̔̈́̊͒̓̃̉̚͘͜ ̶̺̳͓͕͔̱͗͆̓̐̑̚͝͝d̷̬̘͚̘̬̣̭̙̼̃̏̓̾̔̌̀̍̽r̷̛̩̮̞̜̟̐͂́͘͜ͅo̸̧̢̗̝̣͙̘̟͆̀̊̃̉͌͜͠p̵̛̻̠͍̑̅̀́̈́p̷̨̡̖̙͙̥̹̥̞̓͋̈́̽̀e̶̡̳̣̟̖͐̒̾̿̐͝d̸̖͋͆̽̃̐͝

Partially related to that: I have a tiny little headcanon about Remus creating ungodly abominations and naming them like the Great Old Ones (like having a pet abomination called Shubby as reference to Shub-Niggurath). So seeing this little ball of fears and terrors made me kinda happy. What can I say? Somehow, my headcanons are always canon.

_______________________________

Virgil's gift and the problems with it

As soon as Logan proved he wasn't happy with Virgil's gift, instead of adding something more like "But, really, read the newspaper", Virgil kept silent and let Janus and Remus push Logan with their "o-oh, I bet you're angry, get angry".

Was it a reference to WTIT? If it was, then it was a lame one.

Virgil is anxious, fine, but he's not an idiot. And he has a way with words. So, why didn't he say something to make it clearer that there was something in the newspaper? Honestly, when he handed it to Logan, I thought the newspaper was the wrap and that there was something inside it: why Logan didn't think the same? Am I more clever than the embodiment of logic himself?

And, again, why is Virgil such an asshole? Seriously, what if Logan threw the newspaper away? What would Virgil do, then? Show the gift anyway? Not show it? Tell Logan there was supposed to be a puzzle and make him feel guilty (which would've been a huge dick move, because it was Virgil's fault, not Logan's)? Honestly, no idea.

It's just... sad to see Virgil acting like an asshole without a reason. Virgil isn't like that.

_______________________________

Logan's gift and the conceptual value of money

The mere fact Roman asked what he was supposed to do with 20$ proves that:

he's a worse Creativity than Remus

he doesn't deserve money

I already explained why you can feed anything to Creativity and Creativity would find a way to use it, so the first point is already covered.

Speaking of the second one, if I give someone money and they ask me what they should do with that, I would immediately take the money back because they clearly don't know the value of money. Money embodies basically everything and 20$ embodies everything you can buy with them.

So when you gift someone money, you don't gift them a piece of paper: you gift them a paint, a book, a toolbox, a dress, a dinner, a jewel. Gifting money means gifting all the endless possibilities enclosed in the money's value.

In other words, Logan's gift was the perfect hommage to Creativity: since you are a creative force, I give you everything you can have within this value. He literally gave Roman everything! What's more fitting for a Creativity?

The only flaw I can find in this, is that Logan and Roman are not real people, but mental representations, so they don't really need actual money. But if we consider the 20$ as a conceptual gift exactly because 20$ represents the countless possibilities they embody... then they work too.

And speaking some more about gifting money, this is truly the best gift, imho. For years people kept gifting me shitty books because "you like to read". So I had to accept stupid book after stupid book, pile them up, sell them and get the money to finally buy decent books. Instead of forcing me to do this stupid charade, they could've gifted me money straight away.

So my advice is: gift people money. Or gift cards. Or at least include a receipt, so if the other person doesn't like your gift, they can exchange it for something they like more with the same value.

Or, even simpler, just ask what the other person wants. Ask, it’s easier! Your gift won't be the most surprising thing ever, but it will surely be appreciated and used. I know, I do the same with my family every year. And, every year, the gifts are always super appreciated.

_______________________________

Janus' gift and how it was the most fitting one

When I saw the smaller box inside the bigger one, I imagined three different outcomes for this:

there will be an infinite number of boxes inside other boxes and we will see Patton unwrapping them on an even smaller level until he has to unwrap them atom by atom and it will never end

in the last box there will be a wedding ring because moceit is fucking canon

in the last box there will be an actual nice gift

For a moment I really thought we would've seen a wedding ring, but it turned out Janus knows Patton better than his friends - which is not surprising, considering how they keep treating him like an idiot.

And, honestly, I don't find anything wrong with this gift. it's nice, it's funny, it comes from the heart, it's exactly what Patton likes. And it matches Janus' personality too! He appears with something big but it makes you question it, because it’s too light: you assume it's fake, he's lying, he's mocking you. But if you insist, you keep going, see "past the lie", you will find the real gift: smaller than a huge gift, but much more meaningful.

It's perfect for Janus and it's the perfect gift he could've given to Patton. Seriously, I cannot understand how Thomas manages to make the best and the worst decisions about Janus at the same time. It takes a real mastery to do that.

_______________________________

Roman's gift and fuck the main plot

Okay, the bitchslap was funny... until I remembered that we probably won't get any closure about Roman mocking Janus for his name and Janus telling him he's the evil twin. All water under the bridge, I suppose. Glad to know it ended up like this, with a snap and nothing. That’s exactly what I wanted to see, not Roman growing insane, imprisoning Janus and threatening to kill him. Definitely not.

I'm not one to brag but oh gosh, I'm so happy I wrote my own take on the season 2 finale.

About the real gift: okay, Roman gave him an actual gift. That surprises me even more considering... well, POF. But hey, apparently POF is water under the bridge and it looks like WTIT is water under the bridge as well, because Roman isn't angry with Patton anymore. Wow, *so glad* to know so many stakes have been so brutally thrown on the ground like that. Great choice, definitely worth of a good writer.

Also: is this Janus really cold-blooded? Is he? Are you, weird, drunk doppelganger? I'm sorry, but every time I see this guy, I'm so confused by him almost being like the real one, I feel like I need to question him about everything.

_______________________________

How to solve a problem without even trying

Oh, I absolutely *adore* how Logan just goes "Uh, I have a lot of data, hey Roman wanna help? You know, making creativity and logic cooperate? It's not like it's a big deal a cooperation between us".

Ah yes, that's exactly what I wanted to see. Not Logan rejecting creativity because he's unable to see how he can be useful to it, not Remus forcing him to deal with the creative aspect for a little while, not Logan pushing his love for art down to the point he breaks, not to see him breaking down, not to see him slowly learning how to accept creativity in his life and how he can be useful for it...

This is a very, very personal opinion so you can disagree with it, but I find it extremely insulting to see Logan just casually offering a collaboration to Roman. If you read FSS3 you know how long it took me to develop this concept of "logic, art and creativity" and how Logan managed to work alongside Roman and Remus only in episode 13. Episode fucking 13 of 18 total.

For me, this was a HUGE theme. One of the most important because, hey, we're talking about creativity and logic, two of the most important aspects of every human being. This is the essence of humanity. And these two characters both have a lot to learn, so their cooperation perfectly connects with their personal growth...

But hey, apparently that's not an important topic for Mr. Sanders, fuck all of this, let's solve the topic with one single line.

Again: don't like to brag but oh gosh, I'm so happy I wrote my own take on the season 2 finale and the season 3.

_______________________________

Nico is even denser than Thomas

"What's the message?". Seriously. What could the message ever be. Coming from the guy that, when you met him, told you you looked cute and wanted to have a chance with you. The same guy you gifted a necklace.

Clearly the message is "I want to play Scrabble with you on the weekends" and not "I love you, you fucking moron". Clearly.

I don't like to brag, but at least my Nico was much more clever than this idiot.

_______________________________

So... was it good?

It was. It was a good Aside. I even managed to watch it twice, which is a huge improvement compared to the previous one.

The Sides are better than before, they're more IC too - except for Janus, who has been replaced by this weird drunk doppelganger.

The message isn't stupid nor out of the world, but it actually serves a purpose in the story of the episode itself. And yes, I know this is the bare minimum in terms of writing, but considering the last episode, this is WAY better.

The writing is better too, except for a couple inconsistencies (like Roman groaning despite knowing the dark boys will join).

What suffers the most is the connection to the main plot. This Aside supposedly takes place after WTIT (and that other Aside), but as we can see, there are no stakes left. No huge resentment between the Core Sides, no huge resentment between Roman and Janus. Logan calmed as well, Virgil too.

In other words: we reached the same situation pre-Janus introduction. They're all there, they argue and work together and sometimes do stupid shit and sometimes they do not. The climax of the story has been flattened out, to revert to the initial situation.

Did I expect it to happen? Honestly, yes. After three years of nothing and with Thomas being clearly more interested in carefree/comedy videos, of course this would happen.

Do I expect to see drama in the season 2 finale? At this point, I would be surprised if we ever see a season 2 finale. Probably Thomas will wait forever for inspiration to strike and, in the meantime, feed us an endless number of Asides with funnier, carefree topics, so he can enjoy his time and constantly postpone the drama.

Drama requires more work, after all. Drama requires attention, focus, precision. Comedy can be made like this, with a fun video written in a couple days. Drama needs to connect threads and do it properly.

I said it three times already but trust me, it's a huge fucking relief to know my whole take of season 3 exists, because thanks to that, you can see want I mean, when I say things like "creativity and logic's cooperation is a huge topic" or when I talk about how Janus should be handled. My work is far from perfect, sure, but imho, it's better than this. And this is a personal opinion, so you can disagree as much as you want.

(Speaking of that, I scheduled for December 29th my last post about FSS3, in which I add a couple of things regarding the future of SaSi, so... just keep an eye out for that)

That doesn’t mean I am blaming Thomas for making this Aside or for enjoying comedy more than drama. That’s perfectly fine and he can do anything he wants. Heck, this Aside is good too, so I’m not blaming him for that.

The only thing that saddens me is to see how we casually reverted to the beginning, with no real stakes anymore. We’re just… here, enjoying a comedy show. Which is not inherently bad per se, because there are a ton of great comedy shows. But considering what we saw and what SaSi could’ve been… it leaves a bitter taste, to see such great potential being ignored to revert the show's possible growth.

( Support me on Ko-fi )

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @reesiereads @mudpuddlenl@allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia@whatishappeningrightnow  @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag  @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling​ @payte @hypnossanders​  @idontreallyknow24​  @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical​ @patton-cake​  @hereissananxiousmess​  @purplebronzeandblue​  @cynicalandsarcastic​ ​@lost-in-thought-20​ @andtheyreonfire​ 

@riseofthewerewolf​ @rosesandlove44​​  @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan​ @arya-skywalker​  @csi-baker-street-babes​ @queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@dracayd-universe​ @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite​ @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl  @grayson-22  @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella  @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside  @coldbookworm  @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter  @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3

[olderthannetfic]

I wasn't an anti but I logged back into tumblr after a few years of not using it (2018-19 exodus), and that's when I first heard about the anti vs proship deal. When I was a teen I often read incest/underage/gore/abuse/rpf whatever category of things that are supposed to be brain rotting for you and I never thought twice about it. I never felt guilty, I didn't think it was wrong, and it never crossed my mind to think "this royed fic is depraved and the author a sicko". But when I logged back in, I started reading arguments from both sides.

While going through my blog, to my horror I discovered I had long ago reblogged some rick and morty ship fanart, the grandpa/son messed up relationship version. I thought what if someone finds this blog and connects it to me irl? How would I explain this? Why do I even like this? I thought they would think I was a pedophile. I quickly deleted all of it that I could find.

I also came across a bunch of kylux fanart. I had recently been seeing posts about how that was racist because of course some background white dude with two lines is in a more popular ship then the leads of color, right? Racism. I deleted those, too.

And now I feel so stupid for getting caught up in it. I never outwardly expressed any of this but it was an internal I have to be careful about what I reblog, what art I appreciate, and what I write. I chalk it up to being a year into covid and being isolated, wishing I could be physically in my uni classes, and being incredibly burnt out. I thought what people filled their heads with was really important- because so many people were not wearing masks and covid was overloading hospitals. I was incredibly worried about killing my immunocompromised coworker by giving them covid and resented everyone who wasn't following distancing guidelines (which was a lot of fellow students, my roommate, the public). And I thought if people considered more about what information they shared, and realised their capacity to harm, then this wouldn't be happening.

Plucking the potentially "harmful" things from my life felt like I was helping something. Though I'm not acting like I was operating selflessly. A lot of it was fear of how others would judge me.

After reading what you specifically had to say about kylux I realized how stupid I was being. Because the whole appeal of them is hot kylo ren and the BDSM villains fucking each other in leather. There is no other ship combo in the prequels that delivers that as naturally. It really is super lamentable that m/m juggernaut pairs trend white but it really is 1. lack of nonwhite main characters in popular media in the first place, and 2. lack of nonwhite woobies and characters that fit into that shippable mold. And these things being controlled by the profit margins of hollywood. I thank you for pointing these things out, and snapping me out of being an idiot.

A lot of people my age seem to believe you can change the world by sharing an infographic on instagram. Or here. I don't want to be too harsh on people for clinging so hard to the power of the internet for positive change!! during the most isolated moments of this pandemic, but I really recommend 1. killing the cop in your head and 2. seeing what sort connection you can make with the people in your area. I love logging off and being around people, and I love logging on to read my favs banging with tags that would make a priest infarct.

--

That feeling of impotence during a time of ongoing stress is exactly what gets people reaching for the fake activism. They've got to do something, and all the actually productive things are out of reach so...

Emotionally, it's just how we're built, I'm afraid.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for farting on public transport?

I feel a ton of anxiety over this, even though I find it funny.

A while back I messed up my lower abdomen from holding in gas. Not bad enough to give me a hernia, but it likely could cause damage if I hold it in or fight the urge. During the checkup I had for my gut trauma, the doctor told me holding it in at all is not a good idea, and to fart when I have to.

In any case, I try not to stink up a place, especially in public, but sometimes I sneak a fart or two, which I never used to do before the hernia scare.

With this in mind, I had to take a train for 3 hours to visit a group of friends over the new years weekend. On the train home, I was exhausted, and wasn't able to properly let out gas while hanging out with my friends. I'd gone to the bathroom, but it wasn't enough, so I popped a few farts quietly in my seat.

The air conditioning was going pretty well, so I thought I was in the clear. Plus, I only farted twice. I was masking cause public transport after New Year's is gnarly even without covid, so it was hard to smell. Usually, even with a mask, you can smell it, but I couldn't smell anything.

There was an older woman in front of me (maybe 60s?) who kept coughing. I thought she had covid or old person lungs, but at one point, she got up and looked behind her and said, "oh, god". I was pretending I didn't know what she was doing just in case, so I didn't see her face or if she was looking at me. I'm also visibly gay, and get called tons of messed up stuff by strangers, and lowkey thought she was being homophobic at first before remembering I ripped ass lol

The train was practically empty at this point, and had plenty of free seats elsewhere, though it didn't when I'd first boarded, which is why I was behind her. I thought, if she's upset about the stink, couldn't she move a few feet away? It can't be that bad. She kept getting up and pacing back and forth, then sitting back down, so she could always move to a seat not so close if it's cause I'm stinky.

At the end of my trip, she was walking around again. I went to get my bags ready, and she looked at me and asked "do you get off at this station or the next?" I told her this was my stop, and she didn't ask anything else. She took her stuff and left first. I didn't see her for the rest of the ride. She only had one small bag, so it made me more confused why she didn't change seats if she smelled something foul.

When I got home, I let that shit rip and it absolutely stunk way worse than I was expecting. I was surprised as hell, I thought she was overreacting. I've been thinking about it for a while now, and wonder if I should have done something differently.

Am I the asshole for farting in public?

What are these acronyms?

[sgiandubh]

I don't even understand what there is to gloat over? (antis) Why does him saying he had Covid serve the narrative? (shippers) Lots of people got Covid (including Cait), it shouldn't be a surprise. Honest to god, both sides of this fandom do the absolute most! He could have had Covid and quarantined, he could have spent it with Cait, he could have blah blah blah. It was 2 years ago. SO WHAT? He was going to be in New Zealand over Christmas away from family and friends regardless. It's just a story, there is no need to take everything so personally. That last sentence isn't directed at anyone in particular, but sometimes this fandom gets deep in their feelings and it's just not necessary.

Dear Both Sides Anon,

I have no idea if you are new or not in here and to be honest, I don't think it's relevant. The reason I am answering your ask, while I currently send a good 75% of them to the bin, is because it sums up very well the puzzled look on the face of a complete stranger who stumbled by chance on our blogs.

This is an adversarial, even gladiatorial fandom. Kindness (🙄) abounds, as you can see. No one in here is probably never very far away from it (🤬😡🤢🤮👺💀☠👻👽👾💩). Irony aside, I don't think I have ever seen, in my entire life and in any other social context., such a consuming passion for the tiniest detail and such a nuclear spending of energy, on a daily basis. And mind you, everything is usually taken on a very personal level and how could it be otherwise, given the rich bullying and harassment history of this damn place?

Upon entering, it's not exactly lasciate ogni speranza, but rather - place your bets intelligently. Speak to the right people, which means 'speak to the people you personally feel the most comfortable sharing things with'. Never assume you are away from a faux-pas. Think twice before posting and always try to imagine you're talking to people, not sheep or aliens or robots or pawns. And by Jove, never imagine everybody will like you: this is not a popularity contest, this is sometimes Beirut.

Last, but not least (and I think you've noticed it, by now), this fandom just loves drama. Justified or unjustified - it doesn't really matter. That makes the good fortunes of 💩👻, who zip between the combat lines faster than the Venetian commute vaporetti. Carelessly light a match and the whole gunpowder warehouse goes 💥 in a matter of seconds. So yes, Anon - I understand what you mean. But I also know very well the equanimity you vouch for is never to be found here.

So, we should be grateful for small graces: someone who asks you if you are ok or about your #silly day at the office. Or someone who drops two lines just to say your posts made her smile, while riding an overcrowded bus on the other side of the world. That is the real beauty of this strange place, Anon. The rest is Byzantine politics and the Mighty Circus that keeps us all in here, riveted.

[lol-jackles]

Here's another article about the current contraction within Hollywood, this time focusing on the crew members. My question is, what will it take for Hollywood to break out of the current contraction, if it does, or is this the new normal?

.

Link.   There will be a new normal, this is probably the 3rd new normal in my lifetime. Due to the boom era that culminated during the streaming decade, peaking in 2015, a lot of people moved to L.A and got into the industry. Now it's the bust era and there's a surplus of crew and a shortage of projects. A lot of people are going to get weeded out. Only some will be able to stay in the industry, others who aren't working will find other work while they bide their time, move to another city with more projects (and not enough crew), or leave the industry altogether. Eventually we'll be back at something closer to equilibrium, but with lot less crew members in the industry in LA. That goes the same for actors, writers, and producers.

Back in 19'70s, legacy studios were going belly up because people moved out to the suburbs and stayed home to watch TV instead of going out to see movies. Same problem today, covid lockout taught people to wait for movies to leave the theater and show up on their streaming services 80 days later. During the '70s, independent films took off, including something called Star Wars. Soon blockbusters were in and small quirky arty films were out and the "Hollywood Renaissance" era began. In contrast the Japanese own film industry never won their battle against tv.

The current tv landscape also reminds me of the 1990s when network TV struggling to regain an audience in the age of cable, the VCR/DVD, and satellite TV. Then they discover The Bundle. The cable-tv bundle was very lucrative because companies were paid twice: first by cable distributors, which shelled out billions every year to have channels like ESPN available for their subscribers, and then by advertisers, which opened their wallets to promote products alongside the hottest shows. Now that era is gone due to cord cutting so they're figuring out a new bundling scheme with streaming services.

But the current problem today is also started back in the 1990s when tech nerds started to take over Hollywood, they didn't understand show business and why tv and film budgets exploded since the 90s. That problem came home to roost in the 2020s, resulting in slashing production budgets by 60%.

Excerpt from the article:

Even the shows and films shooting in L.A. now have slashed many departments, he added, noting sets that historically employed 20 hairstylists now have just two or three.

Orion said “9-1-1” was a “very hard show,” noting that crew member Rico Priem recently died in a car accident after pulling a 14-hour overnight shift. “We were all tired, it was a very terrible thing,” Orion said after noting that hours on sets are generally “brutal and relentless."

Outside of the U.S., several countries, including the United Kingdom, New Zealand and Australia, are offering cushy tax incentives for studios, where they can bypass unions and pay crews lower wages than in the States.

[artificial-condition]

You work at a library? What are some weird questions YOU'VE Gotten?

Yes I’m a library clerk (going to get my masters in library science)!

Just a couple weeks ago I had a patron come up to me and ask an elaborate series of questions about my dating preferences. She first explained the common dating age rules (I think it was the lowest age you should date is half your age +8 or 9 years?) (highest is twice your age I think?? I don’t know I was already getting the ick at this point)

After she explained she starts asking me if I would date the lower age range (which was 18 or 19 for me) and I’m like no. But then she asks for my reasons why and after I tell her that we’re is different stages of our lives she starts trying to correct me!!! Telling me not to let “societal pressures” impact my decisions and I’m just giving her the side eye super uncomfortable not digging this

Then she asks if I would date the upper range and I again say no, saying that’s my parents age (all of this not including the fact that I don’t date!!! I’m probably on the aroace spectrum so I’m just like agh) and she’s again telling me I’m wrong and trying to convince me of why I’m wrong!!!

She ends the conversation saying that I’ve messed up her paper she’s writing for school and I’m just relieved for the conversation to be over haha

We had a lot of very interesting questions come in when we weren’t open to the public during covid. We have a program called just ask where people can call and “just ask” us anything and we’ll try to figure the answer out for them; for covid we expanded this greatly and had people at each branch answering these lines

I got a lady who wanted to know the origin of a bunch of common English phrases (I can’t remember the phrases themselves, it was sayings like “beat around the bush” and “hit the sack”) (one of the phrases I think had the word pot in it and she wanted to know if it was a drug reference) (it wasn’t) anyway and she went on to talk at me for an hour about how she spies on her neighbors and how awful they are but that’s not on topic

Another lady wanted to know the difference between farm raised cod and wild caught cod. She was not getting when I tried to explain one is raised in captivity and one in the wild. It is hard to find nutritional facts about farm vs wild caught cod.

I can’t remember too many more at the moment but I’ll probably reblog this when I think of more. I’ve only worked in the public system part time for four years, I hear crazy stories from my coworkers who’ve worked 15+ years (I’ll reblog when I think of them too)

[darkmaga-retard]

All you need is one honest paramedic, the number of paramedics, and knowledge of the Poisson distribution. This isn't rocket science. So why isn't anyone else making these estimates?

Steve Kirsch

Sep 19, 2024

Executive summary

One honest paramedic + simple math + number of paramedics —> lower bound on deaths caused by the COVID vaccine in America.

A few honest doctors observing a death rate in their own practice —> lower bound on deaths.

I get at least 500K Americans killed by the COVID vaccines, no matter which way I do it. My results agree with many others who have used other estimation methods.

One honest paramedic: Harry Fisher

He texted me that has seen 20 deaths he is certain were caused by the COVID vaccine, and over 100 serious vaccine injuries.

Let’s just use the death count.

A Google search shows over 172,000 paramedics in the US.

For the purposes of a lower bound estimate, we have to assume that Harry is a statistical outlier, i.e., that he is the ONLY paramedic in the US who has seen numbers this high.

The Poisson distribution results for “seen 20 or more events, when we expected 6 events” is 5e-6.

So this means that on average, we’d estimate that the average paramedic sees 6 vaccine deaths.

So a minimum of 6 vax deaths * 172,000 paramedics works out to be slightly over 1M Americans that have been killed by the COVID vaccines.

You can do the similar estimates for doctor observations and there the math is even simpler because you know the denominator

I reached out to 5 doctors who reported seeing an average of 5 deaths per thousand vaccinated.

Let’s assume that I was very unlucky and all these doctors were 2 standard deviations from the mean. The average practice size was over 1,000 patients.

So that suggests a mean of 2 vaccine deaths in a 1,000 patient practice (which has a std deviation per Poisson of 1.4 so 2+2*1.4=4.8 which is close to our value of 5).

Since there were over 270M people who were vaccinated in America, the conservative estimate using this method is 540,000 Americans have been killed.

Here we don’t even need to know the total number of doctors at all or the patient overlap so there is less confusion. We only need to know that doctors don’t count people twice in their practice, which they don’t.

Summary

If I’m wrong, why aren’t we seeing the correct estimates from any mainstream epidemiologists anywhere in the world?

Any decent scientist would want to do estimates using various statistics to make sure they got the right answer. But nowadays, nobody is showing us their work.

I’ve been doing this for over 3 years now and all the estimates I get (from various methods) are all in the same ballpark, including this one. And my numbers agree with others who have been doing the same thing using a variety of methods (VAERS, large family member surveys, etc).

I’d like to see the work of the experts showing all of us got it wrong, but for some reason, they aren’t publishing their work. I guess they don’t want to embarrass us so they are keeping the true numbers a secret.

So I guess we’ll have to wait. But in the meantime, I wanted to make sure all these epidemiologists know that I’d love to be proven wrong and you won’t hurt my feelings if you show us all the correct estimates.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, I weirdly haven’t written enough about this on this blog so far, given what a big thing it is for me – I’m going to the fucking UK this summer. For real this time. For real. Here is a post about it.

I first posted on this blog about wanting to go to the UK in early 2021, I think. I remember making posts about how maybe once the vaccines were finally released, and I was all vaccinated, travel would be safe, and I could go for a little while before I start my college courses again. That didn’t happen for quite a few reasons.

I spent much of 2021 planning a hypothetical trip, knowing it probably couldn’t really happen, because obviously things like this don’t really happen, but I needed something to fantasize about in the depths of lockdown. It’s odd that a global pandemic made me interested in international travel for the first time. Pre-COVID, my life was so full of a single sport that I didn’t really have time to think about anything else as a hobby. I was on the road most weekends, but that road was the 401, driving off to the same few cities anywhere from two to twelve hours away, to sleep in a cheap hotel or on someone’s gym floor and then shout at teenagers at day and immediately drive home. Every once in a while we’d go to a tournament in the States, which counted as exciting international travel. The idea of actually seeing places that are not in or near the border with my country just hadn’t occurred to me.

Then the world ended, I fell deep into the Britcom rabbit hole, all that stuff. And in 2021, I got really into 1) memorizing how to label all the countries and major cities in the world, and all the counties or other regional areas in the UK and Ireland, on a blank map, because I’d learned that the larger world existed and I wanted to be clear about where it all is, and 2) going through places I’ve never been on Google Earth, usually while listening to audio comedy. I also took to looking up things to do in the UK on Trip Advisor, mapping the route on Google Maps and following it on Google Earth, knowing this was all for a hypothetical fantasy trip but still researching things like train fares and schedules because it was more fun if it felt like it could be real.

I’m fascinated by the idea of places that are Different From Here being actual real physical places where people could actually go. Which is especially weird in this case because I actually have been to the UK. I have a godmother there, whom I’ve met in person three times, twice when she’s come to Canada and once when for my sixteenth birthday she paid for my mother and I to go to England for a week. We stayed at her place in London, did all the tourist-y things, also spent a day in some spot in Somerset but I’m fuzzy on where or why, it was 2006. My clearest memory of the week is seeing Spamalot on St. Patrick’s Day and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. I’ve also got fairly clear memories of climbing stairs at St. Paul’s Cathedral, thinking Westminster Abbey was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen, and seeing some extremely cool stuff at the British Library including some original handwritten Beatles lyrics. And I remember the tube and being impressed that the cars really do have driver doors on the wrong side, that’s not just a thing they made up on Fawlty Towers.

Still, it was so long ago, and it was such a short time compared to the amount of time that I’ve spent watching Britian on TV, that it does feel a bit like Britain is a fictional place that exists on TV. Obviously I realize that’s a very ignorant North American thing for me to say, and in my defense I think I know a hell of a lot more about Britain than the average ignorant North American. I can label all the regions in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales in under five minutes. But I’ve got to admit, on a visceral level, learning all that stuff does feel a bit like memorizing lore in a fantasy novel.

There is kind of an appeal in the idea that… okay, the last time I was this obsessed with something besides a sport in which I actually participated, I was a kid in the Harry Potter fandom. I was a kid who read a lot of books, and a lot of my favourites happened to be British fantasy or sci-fi novels (Harry Potter, CS Lewis, Tolkein, His Dark Materials, Douglas Adams), but Harry Potter was the one that took over my life from the ages of about ten to fourteen. You classic situation of – didn’t have friends in real life, all my social interaction came from Harry Potter message boards, a vast chunk of my free time dedicated to reading every passage of the books over and over and over and analyzing them and writing things about them and I made some friends on the internet who loved Luna Lovegood as much as I did. Then I got to high school and started wrestling and made some friends in real life and slowly moved away from online fandom, didn’t do anything except that for fifteen years, then the world ended, I came back and found a new online fandom that was also British but had less magic and more panel shows, then the author turned out to be a terrible person and ruined my childhood.

Anyway. The point is that I remember when I was a kid, obviously I spent ages fantasizing about being able to actually go to all those places in Harry Potter. But I couldn’t, because those are not real places. Well, my new foray into fandom also feels a bit like that – like this fictional thing I’ve got obsessed with that no one around me knows anything about but some people on the internet are into it. Except that this time, the place where all these things happen is actually a real place, and I can pay money to go there. This concept remains amazing to me.

So I mapped out the idea of this trip a couple of years ago, and for a long time, it stayed in a limbo between fantasy and genuine possibility. I did actually start working out budgets and putting money aside for it, but all the while thinking this won’t actually work. I was starting to do things post-lockdown again, the sense that we were all locked down so nothing is real so I may as well engaged in some escapism and plan some fantasy trips – that started to give way to regular life, and in regular life, I’m not a person who does shit like that. I can’t just fly across the ocean to see a fictional place. I still had it vaguely in my head that maybe someday I’d like to, but I stopped actively planning anything.

But at the same time, the whole concept of Britain was starting to feel a bit less fictional (I’m… I’m feeling the need to clarify, again, that this is just a sort of emotional automatic response to put “the place where Britcom happens” in the “fictional” category in my brain… I did not at any point genuinely think the United Kingdom was fictional… especially since I’ve been there before). I do remember the first time I got physical, tangible proof that the people in the fictional Britcom world are real, when Russell Howard came to my city in March 2022 (my then-girlfriend got us tickets because she knew I liked British comedians, she was excited about it so I didn’t tell her that actually I’m mad at him for the Jordan Peterson apologism so don’t want to go, it’s not something I’d have chosen myself but it was a thoughtful gift and to be fair an extremely fun night), and I could not get over the idea that the man from the fictional place was here in real life displacing air like he’s a real human being and actually all of it is physically real. Over the next few months I did an 8.5-hour drive to New York City to see Nish Kumar, and then two months later a 2-hour drive to see him do the same show in Montreal, because it was that fucking great a show. I also saw James Acaster in Montreal, and a club night with Dara O’Briain and Fern Brady and Phil Wang and Tom Allen and Sindhu Vee and every single one of them was an actual real person breathing the same air as me. Before the show I saw Dara O’Briain on the street and was so shocked that I hit my mother too hard to show her and she jumped and the commotion attracted his attention and I didn’t know what to do except stare at him like he was a zoo animal until he smiled awkwardly at me and went on his way.

Things like this did rather renew my interest in a trip, not just for the novelty of seeing a place that feels fictional, but for the more practical purposes of seeing my favourite comedians live. My interests within Britcom were starting to shift significantly toward stand-up, I got obsessed for a while with learning everything about the history of the Edinburgh Festival in the 21st Century, it seemed like another world, the time of the Chocolate Milk Gang and 24-hour shows from the early 00s, but then I watched videos on the internet that were filmed at the 2022 Edinburgh Festival and realized this place is actually real and still happening now and it is technically possible to go there.

After that, the concept rapidly became de-fictionalized in my mind when I sent someone a message on a comedy forum, in the hopes of finding a few comedy recordings that I heard existed, and by complete coincidence stumbled upon the best person I possibly could have. I’d thought worst case scenario is he doesn’t reply and I will be left to assume he saw my message and considered it horribly rude, great scenario is he has a few things I’m asking for, amazing best case scenario is maybe he has lots of stuff and is willing to share. As it happened, I got the best case scenario, plus far more than that. Specifically, a the coolest fucking person I could possibly have found, as a new friend, direct interaction that made all of this seem a hell of a lot less fictional very, very fast. He said things like “So are you ever going to come out here and actually see this stuff yourself”, and I said things like “Obviously I have plotted a route and looked up train fares but don’t be silly, that was just the stuff of lockdown-induced dreams.”

I quickly started planning things more seriously, but at the same time, the editing work I’d been doing started drying up, I had a bit of a financial crisis where I became concerned that I’d be unable to pay rent, and couldn’t save for a trip. I followed the 2023 Edinburgh Festival from afar, from NextUp streams and hearing stories about it from a friend who actually went there and sent me pictures, which was so fucking cool, and it was all so very very real.

I got a new job, this one much harder because it involves leaving the house all day for five days a week, but also it’s much more stable than the editing work I did for all of lockdowns, and I was able to start saving money in the second half of 2023. I learned that the place where I work shuts down for the last week of July, and the Monday of the following week is a holiday. So I put in a request for just four days off, the Tuesday-Friday, to create a two-week holiday. One week in London at the end of July, and one week in Edinburgh during the first week of the Edinburgh Festival.

The time off got approved (barely, I was told I can’t book any other vacation time in 2024, but I got it) in late 2023, and it was so exciting, and that’s the first time it started to feel even a little bit real. Then I booked an Air B&B for the week in Edinburgh, because it’s my understanding that accommodation availability and prices are a huge issue there and you want to book early. I think I did well, though. Found a place that’s not cheap but not unfeasibly expensive, I can have my own room and it’s a 50-minute walk or 10-minute bus from Edinburgh city centre. It was so exciting to book the place, put some money down, finally have something on the books for sure. Though I did triple check that it’s fully refundable if I cancel up until pretty much the day before, just in case something goes wrong.

I booked the flights over Christmas. They weren’t cheap, but I was able to afford them without destroying my ability to pay rent, because it turns out there is a reason why I put myself through human interaction for 8-10 hours five days a week. I did pay an extra fee to give myself the ability to pay another fee and cancel them, because still, it felt like I can’t be totally sure this will actually work. But that was a big commitment.

And that’s pretty well the main things sorted out. I still have to book a whole lot of train tickets, but I have the flights. I have the time off work. I have the Edinburgh accommodation. I have accommodation in London, because the absolute coolest person I could possibly come across on a comedy message board has a spare room, and is extremely kind and generous with his time and space, and I’ve said some pretty disparaging things about that message board before (based on some quite bad threads from like fifteen years ago, that I spent weeks reading in their entirety because, you know, autism), and I would like to take them all back.

Now they’ve announced the first bunch of acts at the 2024 Edinburgh Festival, and I’ve been going through picking out which ones look most interesting to me, and for maybe the first time, it’s finally feeling completely, entirely real. This is happening. For real this time. I am going through an Edinburgh Festival catalogue not just to take screenshots of the most interesting blurbs so I can save them in a folder and/or post them on my blog to say here’s an interesting piece of history. I am going through it to pick what shows I wish to see.

So here’s my plan, that I’m writing because I now feel confident that I think it’s actually going to happen. Obviously I have a spreadsheet with various tabs, and a KMZ file so I can open Google Earth with all the places I might potentially want to see already marked. I have been planning this trip for years. I have two weeks in the UK, and I don’t want to waste a single second. I want to make sure all that time spent planning comes to something, because as a fundamental part of my personality, I have always believed that there is a level of planning you can do to guarantee that everything goes right. This belief has been proven wrong time and time again, but I’ve never tried something with this much planning beforehand, so surely this time it’ll work. No taking a chance on some tourist attraction that might turn out to be shit, because I’ll have looked at it all on Google Earth beforehand and ranked things in order of how cool they look.

I have organized my spreadsheet into seven tabs: overview, plan by day, places to eat, things to see London, in Edinburgh, in Cambridge, and things to pack. I have organized each “things to see” tab into three sections: things I want to see for reasons related to general tourism, things I want to see for reasons related to comedy, and things I want to see for reasons related to Harry Potter. I apologize for the latter, and obviously I will not be doing anything that would give revenue to JK Rowling. But nothing JK Rowling can say in the 2020s will change my childhood, and I need to spend some amount of time indulging my childhood dreams of running around fancy buildings feeling like I’m in a magical British land.

London, tourism: pretty straightforward. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral are on the list, because I remember how cool they were last time, and because for some reason when I stopped being Christian at age 16 I did not also get rid of my awe at fancy churches. I want to see Parliament and related areas, I want to try to get a picture of the Number 10 door as seen in Yes Minister. I want to see some bridges. Take a cable car across a river. Go look at Douglas Adams in Highgate Cemetery (I realize there are more famous people than Douglas Adams there, I’d like to see them too, but mainly Douglas Adams). Go see what The British Library has going on while I’m there. There are too many pubs on the list given the fact that I’m currently trying to stop drinking, I am going to cut some of those pubs off the list and I’m just trying to decide which ones, but I really love a good pub and the ones in London look so cool and even if I can’t have a pint I want to sit there in the atmosphere and have a burger or some shit.

Harry Potter tour of London is simple. Obviously I want to go look at King’s Cross Station, I did it when I was 16 and it was so fucking cool, I don’t care how stupid that is. Otherwise, I’ve looked up three different areas that were used in filming Diagon Alley, and according to Google Earth, seem like the do sort of look like Diagon Alley-like places. That’s what’s interesting to me. I’m not really interested in places where the movies just happened to be filmed (the movies were fine, I’ve seen them a couple of times each, but it was the books that I read until I had them nearly memorized), I want to see places that look like they could be where the books were actually set. And Goodwin’s Court appears to look like where Harry Potter could have actually been set. So I’ve made an appointment to go walk down a road.

For the comedy-related locations in London, there are a few venues I want to see. Ideally while something’s playing in them, but even if there’s nothing I’m interested in at the Soho Theatre while I’m there, I’d still want to go in and just see the building, after the all the shows I’ve seen and heard that were recorded there. Same with The Bill Murray. Battersea Arts Centre. I also wish to make a pilgrimage to the bit of Regent’s Park where Daniel Kitson’s done some of the most landmark nights of comedy in the last twenty years. Obviously I want to go stand outside the gates to the Taskmaster house and see just how close it is to that golf course. (There will also be a few hours of the itinerary where I might just leave some of the details blank, no need to get too much into what I want to see there, it’s in my spreadsheet as just “Crystal Palace”, and I will say that if you don’t want people to go look at a place where you used to live, don’t make your address the title of your theatre show – I need to stress again, just so we’re clear about what level of creepiness I’m talking about here, it is a former address, not anywhere that anyone significant lives now or has lived for the last fifteen years, it's just the subject of comedy stories that are now long in the past, as are various surrounding landmarks, it’s archaeology.)

Now, in Edinburgh I’ve put a lot fewer things on the itinerary, because I want to leave most of my time for going to see comedy shows. And going to see a couple of music shows, because that first wave of events they’ve announced includes a couple of traditional Scottish music things that I am so excited about, it’s going to be mostly comedy but I do want to do that as well. Celtic music, Harry Potter, British comedy – all the biggest special interests of my life besides the one where you beat people up, all easy to access at this festival (I mean, technically Edinburgh has something called wrestling too, but it’s best if I don’t hear anyone try to compare the Max + Ivan wrestling to the sport that I do).

I do want to climb Arthur’s Seat, because I’ve done it about a hundred times in Google Earth so I just have to do it in real life. When Mark Watson released his book last year, I got the signed and dedicated version and he said we can tell him about a problem we have for him to solve in the dedication. I said my problem is I’m going to London and Edinburgh next year and need advice on where to go, he said I should climb Scott’s Monument. Even though my levels of respect for Mark Watson have dropped significantly since that book actually came out, I am still going to climb Scott’s Monument because Mark Watson told me to.

Similarly, this extremely kind and cool person I know recently got the chance to get me an autographed copy of Tim Key’s new book (which I unfortunately won’t get until I go to London and pick it up in person, but it looks great), where he also asked Tim to give me some advice for my trip. Tim Key said to go to Mosque Kitchen, and Indian restaurant in Edinburgh, so I’m doing that. Oh, and while I’m in London I have to go to a place called Kebab Kid, because it’s Nish Kumar’s favourite shawarma place in England, which I know because I know a guy who could just walk up to Nish Kumar after one of his gigs and ask him what his favourite shawarma place is. Have I mentioned how fucking cool this is?

Anyway. That’s the extent of my interest in Edinburgh tourism, mainly. I mean, if I were going when the festival weren’t on, there would be plenty of other stuff I want to see. But I don’t want to take time away from festival events. I might do the castle. The castle’s probably cool. I definitely want to walk up that hill, as I’ve done many times on Google Earth, and look at the castle. Whether I pay to go inside will depend if there’s a hole in the comedy schedule, I guess.

In the Edinburgh – Harry Potter section, I have a few things. Greyfriar’s Kirkyard, the graveyard with the story about the dog that’s probably bullshit (I mean, it happened, but I think someone was just feeding that dog) but the story about how it inspired Harry Potter character names that’s true. Go get a picture of Tom Riddle’s grave. I’ve marked a couple of streets and a couple of buildings that look particularly like they could be from Harry Potter, those are on the list of places to walk. There’s a Harry Potter store that I want to go in and look through the stuff because the interior seems really cool, but I promise I would never spend money in there.

And then Edinburgh – comedy will probably take care of itself. I want to see The Stand and The Gilded Balloon, as the sites of many of my favourite comedy events over the last twenty years. But I’m hoping I’ll end up in those places anyway to see shows, so no need to make a special trip. If not, though, I’m making a special trip. I have to see the stage where the cow got torn apart. I absolutely have to go see it in person.

There is also the Cambridge tab, because I have blocked off one of my London days to take a train to Cambridge and back. I have made a Google Earth document with about 20 of the most interesting-seeming colleges marked. Obviously I’m not going to see 20 colleges, I’m going to look at them all in Google Earth and then rank them by how cool they look and go see as many as I can in order. I have also, of course, marked down which ones let you take tours and at what times. The place I’m most excited to see is the Wren Library, which appears to be a library from Harry Potter or His Dark Materials or something. I want to see Trinity College because it’s the college on which Douglas Adams based the college in the first Dirk Gently book. A few of the colleges have chapels that look really pretty and are interesting to me because I have for some reason not lost my awe of pretty churches. And mainly, I just want to walk around the Cambridge University grounds looking at stuff.

Oh, and we’re leaving another day to take a train to Kent, where they have an archive of stand-up comedy materials that I wish to see. But I haven’t made a tab for that, because I just want to see some stuff in the University of Kent and then go back to London.

I am also hoping I can block out one day from the Edinburgh week to not book any shows, and just take trains around Scotland. I have always wanted to take trains around Scotland. I have always romanticized trains, I have always romanticized Scotland, taking a train through rural parts of Scotland will make me feel like I’m on the Hogwarts Express, it’s everything my over-romanticizing heart fantasized about when imagining this trip. I’ve checked, and while it would be an incredibly long day, it is possible to take a train from Edinburgh to Mallaig in the morning, have a couple of hours in Mallaig, and take another train back at night. This would take me, twice, through something that’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world, from Glasgow to Mallaig. Mallaig is a tiny village on the West Coast of Scotland and it’s got a hiking trail and a pub and I just want to take a train across a country and walk around the trail and then sit in that pub and look at the ocean. I want that so badly. It’s been a rough couple of months, I find it hard to spend 8 to 10 hours a day interacting with other people, the thought that one day in early August I might spend one hour sitting in a pub in Mallaig looking at the ocean is really getting me the through the day at this point. There are a few pubs in Mallaig, but obviously I’ve picked out my favourite. I want to eat seafood. I love seafood. That’s not just a Mallaig thing, seafood is my favourite food and I always eat lots of it when I visit the East Coast of Canada because it’s better near the ocean. All of Britain is near the ocean, so I want to eat all their seafood.

Okay, that’s the plan. I was going to write about what I’m thinking in terms of actual shows to see, but I might let that turn into a different post. Right now, I’m just excited about the idea of posting this on the internet because it is real and I am actually going to do it and having this to look forward to is way too big a proportion of my motivation at this point in my life.